It was only a kiss
by Rosaroes Crouch
Summary: “It was only a kiss.” “No – it wasn’t!” “It’s all your wishful thinking, Potter.” “No – it isn’t!” Hands pushing a limp body against a wall, holding him still, forcing hungry lips against a mouth that doesn’t participate nor denies the kiss.
1. I: Only a kiss

**It was only a kiss**

k i s s

- - - -

It started out with a kiss –

how did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss.

It was only a kiss.

- - - -

_The killers_ with 'Mr. Brightside'

- - - -

Harry lay on his bed, restlessy turning around every five seconds. There had been a book on potions in his hands at a certain point, but he had soon tossed it away. He sighed dreamily.

"Harry, please stop distracting me," Ron muttered from his large four-poster bed," You know much I detest reading up all these chapters for Potions."

Harry nodded. "Yes," he whispered distracted. He stood up lazily and strutted towards the window, sighing. With his head resting in his hands he crawled upon the chair in front it, staring outside.

"Harry," Ron growled, near to foaming at the mouth.

"Hm?" Harry turned around to face Ron.

"Stop humming that bloody cheerful song." Harry hadn't even realised he had been humming at all.

"Sorry," he smiled.

"Harry," Ron started sternly,"either you tell me what the hell is going on with you, or _please_ leave me alone so that I can at least try to pass this test."

"I'll – I'll just – go," Harry stuttered and almost fell over his own trunk as he practically ran out of his dorm.

He didn't know where he was heading and as soon as he'd arrived in a deserted corridor he stopped running. Panting he sat down in a dark corner upon an old mahogany bench.

His life had never been easy, but since this morning it has reached its summit of difficulty.

-

"Malfoy, give me that letter!" Harry had cried out.

"Make me," Draco had smirked, knowing how much the letter was worth.

Harry had attempted to grab his wand, but Draco had accio'ed it away. He had tried to battle Draco psychically, but the Slytherin seeker was stronger than he'd expected.

It was only when Harry was breathing heavily, with drops of sweat running down his head, that he had realised how smug Draco had looked. How very much in control. How that was the secret to Draco Malfoy's power. Always be in control – or at least make everyone else think you are.

That was exactly what he had been doing to Harry at that very moment.

Harry had to make Draco loose control. Do something the Slytherin would never expect.

And without thinking Harry had stepped closer to Draco – very much within his reach – and did the one thing that came naturally to him. He kissed him.

At first he just wanted to confuse Draco to grab his letter back, but the longer he kept his lips tightly pressed against the blonde's, the more he didn't want to let go. Draco didn't seem to respond to Harry's lips at all – he just stood there, motionless. Until Harry – without realising it – had activated his tongue which started to probe at Draco's lips. The blonde's lips hadn't put up much of a fight, they backed away almost instantly.

Harry had had the sudden crazy realisation that Draco seemed to be – _enjoying_ this. His body had moved forward, aligned with Draco's which was pressed up against the wall. Harry's mouth had ravished Draco's hungrily, forgetting the letter that the Slytherin had dropped in the process.

When the Gryffindor had backed away, panting, Draco had smirked.

"Keep the letter," he had said, looking smug and composed as he had walked out of the owlery leisurely. Harry had cursed himself. How did Malfoy always seem to be on top of everything?

-

And now the blonde Slytherin was still on top. Harry couldn't get the feeling of that kiss out of his head. He had done it himself – cursed himself with this tantalizing memory. It was the price he had to pay for his own stupidity. He had never done such a thing before – he could just hit himself in the head. What had made him do this? What part of his body had caused him to kiss Draco – _for fuck's sake_ – Malfoy?

The same Draco Malfoy he had to survive every day. It had been hard before, but it had been challenging. He didn't have to worry about blushing, getting his hair too ruffled or making himself look like an ass. It suddenly all mattered.

Much more mattered than before. Suddenly Snape mattered, especially the way he eyed Draco during Potions was _suspicious_ – to say the least. Harry tried to keep his eyes on Draco as much as he could. For no rational reason of course, but he couldn't help himself. He just couldn't take his eyes off Draco.

The only other activity he engaged in lately was listening to music, closing his eyes and pretending he was with Draco. Spanish songs brought them to a tropical beach, dancing in the moonlight – dark and powerful songs made them overcome difficult situations with their love – sappy love songs made them make love to each other all night long in Draco's green and silver bed. Almost everything made him think of Draco.

He hated it, but he was acting like a pubescent schoolgirl with a huge crush.

-

He awoke with happiness and hope. He had even acquired knowlegde he had never dreamed he'd have – he knew the silliest things that made him happy and in love.

While walking to the Great Hall for breakfast he sung French lovesongs. He didn't quite know what it all meant, but he just felt it was right.

It was more than right when he caught a glimpse of silvery hair flowing on his left. He couldn't see anything but Draco and pushed him away from the breakfast crowd.

Draco spoke before Harry could've said anything.

"It was only a kiss."

"No – it wasn't!"

"It's all your wishful thinking, Potter."

"No – it isn't!"

Hands pushing a limp body against a wall, holding him still, forcing hungry lips against a mouth that doesn't participate nor denies the kiss.

"See?"

"What?" A silent smirk.

"You wanted me to kiss you."

"Again, wishful thinking."

"No!" A growl.

"Potter – get out of my way."

Hands shoving the other body away.

-

He bit his fingers – wanting to hurt them, punish them for touching Draco. He had trouble breathing – he needed to see Draco. As if he was some addiction of which Harry need a fix – real bad.

"Fuck!" he screamed to himself and the empty dorm. At least his roommates were all out to the Three Broomsticks, leaving him alone with his obsession. He thought of himself as pathetic – he was just literally screaming for Draco.

And it was . all . his . own. goddamn. fault. If he had just smacked his fist into Draco's fist he had lost one of his best friends, but at least he could think straight. He had forgot all about Oliver's letter after the kiss. It had been Oliver he had kissed Draco for in the first place.

Ever since the ex-Quidditch captain had left Hogwarts he had stayed in touch with Harry. At first their contact had been based on an innocent crush, but after they both got that out of their systems they grew to be each other's best friends. At least twice a week they would write the other, telling all about their lives.

Oliver wrote about things he did, things Harry didn't approve of and the world – if it ever got out – wouldn't approve of either.

Harry had lost most of all his nails by know, gnawing on them like a crazed animal.

"It was only a kiss," was floating around in his head. He heard Draco say it – over and over again.

-

He couldn't look, it was killing him. He wanted to regain the control he once had. But he couldn't help it, the jealousy was consuming him. Draco had kissed him.

"It was only a kiss."

"No – it wasn't!"

"You only seem to want to believe yourself, don't you, Potter?"

"But – I – I saw it!"

Eyes grew larger. "You did?"

"I'm choking on your stupid alibi! Draco – you're lying!"

"It was only a kiss – really."

"Like our kiss, huh?"

"No," a softened voice, "not at all like our kiss."

Lips seeking other lips – teeth biting into lips with pure jealous passion.

"You – are – mine."

-

Harry was slowly falling asleep on the grass near the gates of Hogwarts. He couldn't stand sleeping inside anymore, he couldn't get any rest there. He needed to be out.

He heard a man call for a cab to Hogsmeade with his wand – while he inhaled deeply. The smell of nicotine reached even Harry's nose.

He looked up, meekly, trying to remain invisable to the smoking man, when his stomach turned. Severus Snape was standing on the weakly lit porch with a cigarette between his lips.

How he hated that man. And before he could even figure out what to do – whether he wanted to hurt – no, _kill_ – him right then and there, familiar footsteps drew near.

"You forgot something." A voice too well-known.

"Ah." Grunting.

He saw him touch his – chest. Pale fingers refastened a tie around the dark man's neck.

'Now, let me go,' Harry whispered to himself, unaware to the tears falling from his eyes.

- - - -

j e a l o u s y

- - - -

I just can't look it's killing me  
and taking control is  
jealousy, turning saints into the sea  
swimming through a sick lullaby –

choking on your alibi.

- - - -

_The killers_ with 'Mr. Brightside'

- - -

TBC.

**A/N:** Yes, Ron 'suddenly' takes up Potions.


	2. II: You don't care about us

**It was only a kiss**

II: You don't care about – us

_You're too complicated – we should separate it_

_It's your age – it's my rage_

He had been sick all night. After an hour of horrible tossing and turning he had forced himself into the bathroom – put a silencing spell on it and threw up. He had to get all that was wrong out of his limp body. He couldn't put up with it all anymore. Luckily he did feel psychically better after all substances had been removed from his stomach. Very tired, unhappy but not nauseated anymore, he crawled back into his bed.

The next morning he couldn't bring himself to go to breakfast. Why would he occupy himself with such meaningless activities as eating when he felt as if his heart had just been ripped out of his chest? It didn't matter anymore – nothing at all.

He told Ron he had a nightmare and wouldn't attend classes. He had asked him and Hermione to leave him alone for the day. He'd tell them eventually – one day, when he could talk about his misery without feeling actual pain all over his body.

After lunch he took a quick shower and threw on some random clothing to go out. Although he knew he should be writing to Oliver about the current tragic circumstances he tried to survive, he was decided on running. He needed something that wouldn't allow him to think – something to make him drive himself further away from his life.

That was what running had done for him in the summers when he was stationed at the Durleys. Whenever they were close to pushing him over the edge, he put on some old sneakers of Dudley and just ran away from his problems. When he'd then arrive late in night he felt satisfied and at peace – plus the Dursleys had gone to bed. All the adrenaline and psychical exhaustion would make him feel whole and fullfilled.

In his worn-down shorts, grey t-shirt and newly purchased sneakers he ran down the stairs, through the hall and out onto the fields surrounding Hogwarts. A couple of laps around the lake would do.

Soon enough he realises how hard he was panting. It wasn't the running that had already worn him out, but the last couple of days had been heavy. Draco. It had been Draco. From beginning to the very bitter end. Sweatdrops fell from his hot and reddening forehead. _Run, run, as fast as you can. You can't catch me. _But Draco had already caught him. Harry as the deer caught in the headlights.

As soon as he returned to the castle he was dragged into a deserted classroom. Forced to look into those pale silvery headlights – they were questioning.

"Potter, damn, what's going on?"

"Nothing." Harry bit his lip.

"Oh, come on, you're not going to tell me this really has something to do with – me?"

"Why couldn't it?"

"Fuck, Potter – it was only a kiss!"

"No."

"Are you still going on about that?"

A gasp. "But – you did feel guilty."

A sigh. "Harry." Hands softly brushing against dark locks of unruly hair. Irregular breathing of someone trying to compose himself.

"Please." A barely audible whimper. "Don't."

"I don't understand you." A hungry mouth whispers against needy lips. "Why does it matter?"

"You don't care." Harry turns his head away. "About us."

"Us?" A subdued chuckle. "There is no us – Potter."

"But – please?" Voices don't beg, but his did.

"You don't know – not at all."

"What don't I understand? That what you're doing is wrong?"

An angry hiss. "Why are you so eager to condone my behaviour?"

"It – is – _wrong_, Draco."

"Just because you're the victim? Poor little Potter's heart shattered?"

"No – _yes_! But – you, Draco – _you_!"

"I am just fine."

"But – don't you ... _feel_? Feel _– it_?"

"No. It's just your rage talking."

"Please?"

He shakes his head, mouthing 'no'. But he steps forward, bends closer to Harry – his blonde hair loosely dangling around his head.

"Bye," he whispers against Harry's mouth – leaving a soft kiss on his red lips.

- - - -

It was one of those nights again. He knew they were going to bed. How they would undress themselves. It was all in his head – but it was mentally taking control. He was swimming through his own sea of horrible thoughts.

How the older man would touch Draco's chest. How he would help him get rid of his blouse. How he would pull the Slytherin tie from his neck – forcing his lips upon Draco's. How the blonde wouldn't hesitate and kiss back with the same hunger Harry'd experienced.

How after their activities Severus would sit on the edge of his bed, smoking a cigarette. Smile casually, as if he'd just done his grocery shopping. As if it didn't matter to anyone – but it did.

He wished he could let go. But he had to look, every time again.

Every time he told himself he wouldn't go, but every time he found himself with his invisability cloak in his hands. He had to – even if it was all in his head. He had to know what happened. It was killing him, taking control over his mind and body. Bloody jealousy.

Every night it happened, he was there. Sitting a dark corner, being invisable, with invisable silent tears running down his cheeks. Draco never knew he was there, he never knew how much Harry did care. He and his tears would be gone in the morning, but the memory would keep haunting him. He never wished it had to be this way.

He had no choice. And he wanted to. Some part of him kept hoping.

It started out with a kiss, but now he wanted it all. He needed to have it all.

He didn't have plans or special ways of approach. He just sat out those nights. Knowing they would never end, hoping with every fiber of his being they would. That one of those nights, Draco wouldn't be in those chambers in the dungeon.

_Open up my eager eyes_

_Because I'm mr. Brightside_

_- - - - _

**A/N:** as someof youhave noticed, the second dialogue in the first chapter isn't about Harry and Draco's kiss. After this chapter it must be very clear between whom this kiss was shared and why Harry and Draco were discussing it. (The why will be explained further.)


End file.
